


leaps of faith

by reallynotpretty



Category: LOONA (Korea Band)
Genre: F/F, and alcoholics, and choreographer yves, just two fools falling helplessly in love with each other, producer jinsoul, slow burn but not rly slow burn, stylist jungeun, they're all adults, who won't let jinsoul breathe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:48:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27517900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reallynotpretty/pseuds/reallynotpretty
Summary: Jinsol wants to run away from reality, and she thinks maybe Jungeun can show her the way.or: Jinsol throws up on Jungeun on their first meeting and prays that they never have to meet again.
Relationships: Jung Jinsol | Jinsoul/Kim Jungeun | Kim Lip
Comments: 25
Kudos: 271





	leaps of faith

**Author's Note:**

> y'all seen that pic of jinsoul coming out of the car looking mad as hell?? yea that's her in this entire story. god bless whoever took that pic bc im on my fucking knEEs
> 
> also, i may or may not have reflected my own drinking habits into this story??? word of advice: excessive drinking does not take a single ounce of stress away, instead, it completely destroys your liver and shatters your brain 
> 
> read at your own rISK

Jinsoul should’ve known better than to indulge in Sooyoung’s party plans because she’s either going to have to drag all of her shit-face wasted friends out into the midnight air and make sure they get home safe, or, end up completely drunk out of her mind herself.

There is never an in-between.

But the thing is, adulthood is hard, Jinsol has learned it the hard way (resigned from three different companies because none of them seemed stable enough to support her responsibility of having to pay bills and her always fluctuating mental state), and she reckons that sitting in front of a screen for 10 hours straight probably isn’t the most ideal way of spending her day at work. So, when Sooyoung came bursting into her studio at 8pm on a Wednesday, declaring an unhealthy night out with some friends, it didn’t seem like it was too awful of an idea.

Until now.

Jinsol realizes too late that she shouldn’t have tipped those two shots of gin directly down her throat because she feels like her head is threatening to spin its way out of her neck. She hasn’t exactly passed out, not yet, and she’s sober enough to catch Sooyoung dancing with her hands flapping ridiculously in the air and her head thrown back in fits of laughter. 

Jinsol is positive that she’s going to fall off the table she’s currently standing on.

Heejin is standing at the edge of the table, hands grabbing at the legs to make sure Sooyoung keeps her balance (or loses her balance. Knowing Heejin, things could go very wrong within seconds, especially when she’s drunk). Somewhere in the corner of the room that Sooyoung had rented for the rest of the night, Hyunjin squints her eyes while she stumbles her way to grab a bottle of Bacardi rum, raising it above her head and proclaiming _we’re still civilized_ to no one in particular.

Jinsol snorts, because she’s in a club on a Wednesday night and she’s got work tomorrow, that’s not exactly something a self-respecting individual would be up to, so calling it civilized is definitely not the best choice of word. 

She downs a painful shot and tries not to think about how the hell she’s going to drive to her office by eight thirty in the morning without potentially crashing her car. She’s pouring herself another shot when Hyunjin plops down beside her, almost hitting the glass with her knee, but Jinsol pulls away fast enough so that nothing breaks.

“Watch out,” Jinsol says, face scrunching up at the bitter taste of alcohol that lingers on the back of her tongue.

“I think—” Hyunjin manages to choke out between a series of hiccups, her fingers wrapping loosely around a glass filled with rum. “I think I’m drunk.”

Jinsol lets out a lazy laugh. “You _think_?”

Hyunjin echoes her laugh, and beside her, Hyejoo is bobbing her head to the music blasting mercilessly through the speakers.

The drinking doesn’t stop as the night progresses. Sooyoung seems to have invited more of her friends over because the room is louder with the addition of more screams and chatter. And at this point, Jinsol’s sense of her surroundings has already been terribly dulled, the only thing clear in her mind is the way her fingers are tapping impatiently against the shot glass she’s holding. 

A quarter past twelve in the morning and she finally decides she’s had enough. She stands up and proceeds to go to the bathroom (some asshole had spilled vodka all over her, and by asshole, she means Hyejoo), only to have her entire body drift heavily to the right. The ground is suddenly looming awfully close to her face and she closes her eyes, embracing for an impact.

A hand grips onto her arm, preventing her from falling. Jinsol stumbles on her heels, and somewhere behind her, she can hear Sooyoung’s explosive cheer, “Jungeun!”

Jinsol tries her best to stand up straight, but she fails. Miserably. The girl that she’s using as her pillar seems to have noticed her effort, and she places another hand on Jinsol’s shoulder, voice heavy with worry. “You good?"

No, she is not good. Her vision is spinning, her head is about to combust into a thousand pieces and her stomach is undergoing six levels of catastrophe—

“You’re late, two hours late,” Jinsol vaguely registers Sooyoung’s voice from beside her, and she makes a mental note to never allow herself to be dragged into another one Sooyoung’s wild nights, ever again.

“I would’ve been on time if it wasn’t for your impromptu invitation,” the girl—Jungeun? Was it?—still holding on to Jinsol, still worried, offers a not very apologetic smile to Sooyoung. 

Jinsol slips away from Jungeun’s grasp because she’s not about to let a stranger babysit her, how embarrassing would that be? She takes a wary step forward, then she’s suddenly hyperaware of the throbbing bass of music beating on her eardrum, and the crazy lights blinding her eyes, and the twisting of her stomach, and—

And the next thing she knows, she’s throwing up.

-

“You owe me ten million friendship points, and also a hundred dollars worth of alcohol.”

With the sunlight beaming through the windshield, Jinsol’s eyes are still tightly shut. The back of her eyes are burning and her head must have somehow been run over by a truck, because the pain that rips through it is so horrible that it makes her wince. 

Haseul, apparently, was one of the late comers from last night and didn’t have a chance to get more than two sips of alcohol because, well, because Jinsol had passed out, and Haseul is too nice of a person to just leave her alone in her empty apartment and let her _miss_ work. So she took care of Jinsol’s mess, stayed the night, woke her up the next morning, and decided to drive her to work.

A true angel, really.

“I know,” Jinsol says, voice weak.

“Why’d you drink so much on a weekday? Idiot,” Haseul calls her an idiot, but there’s no bite in her words. 

Haseul’s not wrong, though, Jinsol is, indeed, an idiot. If she had to be honest, work hasn’t been entirely pleasant lately—with uncountable deadlines chewing on her ass and her boss’ sudden interest in criticizing every single action she takes, it’s really a matter of time before she crumbles into a pile of hot mess, and said pile of hot mess erupted not too long ago, just yesterday.

In shorter terms, Jinsol’s an idiot for having zero self-control, on both work and alcohol intake.

“Stress,” Jinsol simply offers. She doesn't make too much of an effort to explain because she’s sure Haseul would understand, and the older girl does.

She promises to treat Haseul a nice meal— _wine and cheese_ , as per Haseul’s request, before bidding her goodbye, sending her friend off with a tired smile that comes off as a grimace.

When she enters the building, she practically drags herself lifelessly across the reception, earning a weird look from the girl behind the counter, and to a place called salvation: coffee shop.

It takes approximately ten minutes for Jinsol to finally get her hands on her daily dose of caffeine. She takes a small sip, and the warm liquid soothes her right through the bones, a welcoming gush of peace prompting her into thinking that maybe today won’t be too bad of a day.

“You look like absolute shit.”

And of course, Ha Sooyoung ruins the peace. Nothing new there.

“Thanks to—”

“Before you blame me,” Sooyoung puts up a gesture, her index finger motioning Jinsol to stop talking. “Even with a terrible hangover, I still managed to put up my glorious appearance on full display, so really, you’re the problem here.”

Jinsol wants to argue, say something like _you don’t look as good as you think_ or _your hair looks like it went through a hurricane_ , but Sooyoung does look good, if not perfect, for someone who was drunk off their asses the night before. And Jinsol would ask how she does it, what’s her secret, but her head is still kind of spinning and it’s not even 9am. 

Nothing is nice before 9am. 

“If you’re just going to insult me, then get out of my way,” Jinsol brushes past the taller girl, walking towards the direction of the elevator. To her utter dismay, Sooyoung follows her.

“Jungeun called me this morning, I think she was having two mental breakdowns,” Jinsol pauses on her feet, turning around to face Sooyoung upon hearing the oddly familiar name.

Sooyoung blinks at her a few times, and then she _remembers_.

Not only did Jinsol cause massive trouble for Haseul, ruin her night, and show up to work looking like a neanderthal, she also _puked_ on a complete stranger.

The realization dawns on her like she’s slapped in the face, and she sputters out five quick successions of _oh my god_ s, pacing back and forth in front of the elevator.

Sooyoung looks nothing but amused, and Jinsol has to physically bite back her urge to elbow her hard in the guts because everything is, undeniably, Sooyoung’s fault. No one should ever host a party on a Wednesday night. 

(But then again, Jinsol agreed to it, but that’s not important right now).

“Please tell me I’m not related to any of her breakdowns, and please tell me she doesn’t remember my face,” Jinsol breathes out nervously. She’s sort of clinging to the possibility that Jungeun might not have seen her face, considering the way the lights were shooting in all sorts of crazy directions, then things would’ve been ten times easier—avoid all the Jungeuns in her life and pretend that nothing has ever happened.

Sooyoung tells her otherwise, though.

“No, yes, and yes,” Sooyoung crosses her arms like she’s about to give a very elaborate presentation. Main objective: Make Jinsol’s life miserable. “No to the first mental breakdown because her washing machine broke down this morning, not your fault. Yes to the second one because duh, it’s a _Fendi_ jacket, imagine having it covered in barf and not being able to wash them away. And yes, she does remember your face.”

The elevator comes right on time as Jinsol coughs into her cup of coffee, she’s lucky that only the janitor is in there, she wouldn’t want the entire company to find out about her shitshow.

Great, now not only did Jinsol puke on a complete stranger, she puked on said stranger’s jacket that probably costs half of her annual paycheck, or more. Jinsol doesn’t want to think into details about the price.

“Fuck,” Jinsol mutters.

Sooyoung notices her anxiety and bumps softly into her sides, something she does as a coping mechanism when she knows Jinsol is losing her shit. “Chillax, Jinsol, Jungeun was having a mental breakdown, sure, doesn’t mean she blames you for it. Besides, if she can afford an overpriced jacket, I'm pretty sure she can afford another washing machine.”

It’s one of those times that Jinsol doesn’t want to admit Sooyoung’s making perfect sense, but she’s right. Jinsol’s a fully grown, functioning adult, she can definitely handle issues like this.

No big deal.

-

Of course, when you want something so badly, the universe has its own way of giving you the complete opposite. 

Jinsol would’ve been totally okay with never having to run into Jungeun again, but here she is, in the middle of the parking lot waiting for Sooyoung to drive her home and meeting eye to eye with the person she dreads.

At first, she thinks it’s the aftermath of the hangover making her see things that no one else does, so she tries to blink the sight away, but all her efforts are futile, because Jungeun’s still there, still looking at her.

Jinsol thinks about running away, far far away, maybe she’d go as far as to _resign_ , because what are the fucking odds? The odds, unfortunately, sits right there on Jungeun’s employee ID hanging off her neck. 

> _Blockberry Creative_
> 
> _Kim Jungeun_
> 
> _Luxury Custom Stylist / Sales Executive_

Three years into working at the company, this is probably the time (one of many, many times, actually) where Jinsol despises seeing the words _Blockberry Creative_ the most. Out of all the entertainment companies out there in South Korea, Jungeun just had to work here, in the exact same building as Jinsol. 

Jinsol can’t help but think that everything is out there to get her.

Nonetheless, what’s done can’t be undone, and it’s about time Jinsol acts like an actual civilized human being. Jungeun, on the other hand, to Jinsol’s complete and utter horror, starts walking over to her.

“Hi,” Jungeun greets, sliding her car keys back into a pocket. She offers a small smile when she says, “I hope you’re not too hungover.”

Jinsol’s not too sure what to say. What do you say to someone you’d just thrown up on yesterday and had been desperately trying to erase from memory?

_Hi, hey, sorry I threw up on you, but I really gotta go—_

“I’m fine,” is what ends up slipping out of Jinsol’s mouth. She supposes it’s not a bad start, no hyperventilating, no cursing, no _puking_. “Thanks for asking.”

“Sure,” Jungeun’s smile still hangs on the corner of her lips, sweet and easy, amused, even, like Jinsol throwing up on her had been no problem at all, just a funny little thing that they could all look back on and think fondly of. “Did you get home safe? Hyunjin told me your friend drove you home, but I couldn’t make sure, I had to... well, let’s just say I had sort of to attend to the mess,” on her jacket, because Jinsol had thrown up on her jacket.

Jinsol wants nothing else but to high tail it out of the parking lot. On a side note, what’s taking Sooyoung so long anyway? Usually people bolt out of the office right when the clock hits 6pm. But then again, it’s Sooyoung she’s talking about. Jinsol doesn’t really expect anything usual from her.

“Ah, yes, Haseul drove me home,” Jinsol nods, and at the back of her head, she vaguely thinks about how Jungeun’s voice sounds very different from the night before. It’s less raspy, a little bit softer. She lets herself wander in her thought for only a brief second before she takes a deep, deep, breath, “Hey, listen—”

A blaring honk of the horn reels both of them back in shock, nearly making Jinsol drop her phone she’s holding in hand. Sooyoung enters the frame in her car with a window wind down, looking at Jinsol for two seconds, looks at Jungeun, and looks back at Jinsol again. Her eyes light up in delight and she smiles.

“Oh no, I hope I’m not interrupting something.” 

Jinsol shoots her a glare, but it falls nowhere near Sooyoung’s eyes. 

“Oh, hey, Sooyoung,” Jungeun says first. “Going home now?”

Jinsol takes it as her cue to say goodbye, her hand already on its way to open Sooyoung’s car door. “Actually, she’s my ri—”

Her eyes are dreadful when her fingers reach under the door handle and she hears it _click_ from the inside _,_ twice. No, no, no, _no no no no._

“Yeah, gotta get more work done,” Sooyoung feigns a frown, earning an apologetic ‘that’s rough’ from Jungeun. “So I’m gonna go, meanwhile— _oh_ , hey, you guys should talk it out, have an apology session or whatsoever. This time, try not to make a mess.”

Sooyoung sends a wink to Jinsol’s way, and Jinsol literally can’t believe her own eyes when her friend (supposed friend, anyway, now Sooyoung’s in her blacklist) winds up the car window and drives off.

Jinsol stares in front of her, with her jaw slightly hung open, as Sooyoung’s car gradually gets smaller and eventually disappears. Behind her, her whole world fucking crashes.

“We haven’t been properly introduced yet, by the way,” Jinsol snaps out of it when she sees Jungeun’s hand reaching out to her, now hanging midair. “I’m Jungeun, Sales Executive and Stylist.”

Jinsol’s hand jerks involuntarily to the left when her phone rings, her attempt at reaching out for Jungeun’s hand, for a very awkward and unwarranted handshake.

_Sooyoungie: listen_

_Sooyoungie: do NOT panic_

_Sooyoungie: and just say sorry_

_Sooyoungie: NICELY_

_Sooyoungie: i’ll come back in 10 minutes_

_Sooyoungie: :D_

Ha Sooyoung, the _audacity._

Jinsol ignores her texts in favour of, well, in favour of apologizing, nicely.

“I’m sorry,” she blurts out, and Jungeun seems to be a little taken aback by the sudden statement. “About last night,” Jinsol tries again. She reaches her hand out for Jungeun to take, because they at least need a formal introduction, given the mess that Jinsol had caused them both—how inconvenient. “Jinsol, Producer slash Song Editor.”

A good, firm grip. Jungeun’s fingers close around her hand and squeezes, not too gently but not too firmly, either. Just enough. And to Jinsol’s surprise, Jungeun laughs, and if she were being honest, she thinks that Jungeun looks a little relieved. The twinkling in her eyes is just enough, too, not too bright or too fake. 

Jungeun looks just enough for six thirty in the evening.

“It’s okay,” Jungeun shrugs. “Let’s not make Sooyoung’s kind of drinking a trend, though.”

Jinsol would’ve laughed and agreed, but she met Sooyoung in college and all she did was drag Jinsol from one house party to another, went from one can of beer to two gallons of hard liquor, and transformed Jinsol from a nerdy, hardworking individual, into a total alcoholic (okay, it’s not that Jinsol isn't hardworking anymore, per se, it’s just that sometimes it’s hard to focus on what is on hand when every ounce of motivation she once had had seeped right out of her).

Trend? Not really. A habit? Absolutely.

“I’ve been through worse,” Jinsol simply says. 

The evening air is getting a bit chilly and the traffic hasn’t let up at all outside, and Jinsol’s exhausted from a rough day at work, but Jungeun’s still holding onto her hand even after the introductions had ended and the air between them had turned more awkward than it already is.

“Um,” Jinsol’s eyes drag down from Jungeun’s face, settling on their still-gripped hands. Jungeun, realizing the mistake, drops Jinsol’s hand like it’s poisonous, her cheeks instantly tinting pink, flushing from embarrassment. 

“Right, sorry,” Jungeun stammers out, playing off a smile. It comes out strained and a little bit too much.

Jinsol offers a smile back, just a small one, to show that it’s fine, no big deal (and no offence or anything, but we probably won’t be shaking hands anymore. Just the usual). 

Sooyoung texts her just a few seconds after, saying that she’s outside the parking lot, and Jinsol immediately feels the tension in her shoulder all released into the chilly air, thankful that their painfully awkward conversation will soon be over.

“I gotta go,” Jinsol finally says. She contemplates if she should say something like _see you again,_ but does she actually want to see Jungeun again? After making an awful lot of mess? Probably not. Instead, she settles for a simple, “Bye.”

“See you around,” Jungeun takes Jinsol’s thoughts right out of her mouth, and it kind of sound like Jungeun’s hoping for them to meet again, but nothing else is traded between them but a short, surprised (nervous) chuckle from Jinsol and a smile from Jungeun.

-

Jinsol refuses to talk to Sooyoung throughout the entire ride back home.

Sooyoung just laughs and tweaks at the radio, settling for some calming music.

-

Jinsol wouldn’t say her life is awful, but she wouldn’t say it’s amazing, either. 

She’s working in one of South Korea's most successful companies, and it’s always been her dream to be part of a big deal. She remembers back then in college, where she’d tell Sooyoung, sternly and passionately, that she’s going to Seoul and she’ll be making music for big companies. Sooyoung had placed a hand on her shoulder, and with an equally stern look, she said, “I know.”

Her life isn’t exactly something Jinsol should be complaining about because she’s paid well, owns a sleek, black Audi, a nice and cozy two bedroom apartment all to herself, but you see, that’s the problem right there.

Jinsol has lived in Seoul for more than five years, and sure, the city has offered her a whole lot of wonderful things—wealth, opportunity, pretty night lights, but sometimes, it all gets pulled under the current, into a place called isolation. What’s the point of owning all the luxuries if she has no one to share them with? 

Her entire family lives back home, far away from her, and Jinsol despises the thought that lingers in a dark corner of her head, the thought that she’s never going back to where she came from. Sooyoung is the closest person she considers family, and don’t get her wrong, she’s Jinsol’s best friend, always there when Jinsol needs a shoulder to cry on. But Sooyoung has her own life to live, her own path to take, her own battle to fight, and although they work together in the same field, side by side, Jinsol doubts if things are going to remain the same in the next coming years.

It’s safe to say that Jinsol is terrified of being alone, and of change.

 _Hypocrite._ Jinsol thinks that’s the perfect word to describe her, because of course, she’s changed. That’s also another underlying problem with working in top companies, you get lies, betrayal, and a whole lot of fucking fake. The path for survival, Jinsol has learned from experience, is to adapt. And somewhere during that process, she lost passion, emotions, and most importantly, she lost herself.

Which is why, at 9pm on a Friday night, where she supposedly should already be on her way home with nice, aromatic takeaway food, she finds herself holed up in her studio instead, staring blankly into the monitor screen, and desperately wanting to just pass out for ten days straight.

She’s on her fourth cup of coffee for the day, and it’s been what, two days already, since Jinsol first started on a new title track for a new girl group set to debut in less than nine months. Progress: Eight notes. Which isn’t really progress at all. 

A knock on her door distracts her from her thoughts, and before she even gives entrance permission, Hyunjin is already coming in, a frown knitted tightly between her brows.

Jinsol already knows what she’s going to say.

“How long have you been in here for?” The younger girl crosses her arms. “You didn’t even go for lunch break.”

Jinsol sighs and turns back to stare at the screen. “I don’t have time for that.

“What you don’t have is self-love. You’re working yourself to death,” Hyunjin says, eyes glancing around the room and landing on the empty screen. 

Jinsol has heard it twice, three times, maybe four times already, she doesn’t need to hear it one more time.

“I’m trying—” Jinsol yawns, eyes tearing up. She really needs sleep, stat. Maybe if the company gave her her own personal living quarters, then she would be more productive. “—to not get fired."

Hyunjin snorts, and Jinsol’s too exhausted to take any offence from it. “Vivi’s not going to fire you.”

“Maybe if you saw the way she’s always up on my throat during meetings, then you'd be convinced otherwise."

“Vivi gives everyone a hard time, so like,” Hyunjin rolls her eyes, careful not to call Jinsol overdramatic when she’s already this grumpy and sensitive. “You should know better.”

Because Vivi is not the only problem here, Jinsol thinks bitterly. She refuses to admit that she’s stuck, but that’s just the sad reality of her life right now. She’s stuck and voiceless, with nothing to go by but an unhealthy amount of coffee and alcohol. 

“Right,” Jinsol nods, a little lost in her own haze of sleeplessness and stress. 

“Get some rest, you look like you’re about to drop dead,” Hyunjin breathes out, exasperated. She walks over to Jinsol’s desk, hands immediately reaching out for her laptop, and to Jinsol’s surprise (and delight, deep down), shuts it to a close. She slides it back to Jinsol, her smile smug. “Anyway, I have to go now, Heejin’s waiting for me downstairs. In the mean time, try not to overdose on caffeine.”

The door clicks shut softly behind Hyunjin, the girl’s words hanging in the air. And falling, shattering when it hits the floor because Jinsol refuses to acknowledge them. 

“Okay,” Jinsol slides the cup away from her, groaning as she leans back against her chair. “Take a break,” she mutters, tilting her head back to stare at the bright lights scattered all around the ceiling.

Her mind had instantly refused the idea, because a break isn’t what she needs right now, especially when the deadline for the new song is in, what, less than two months? She’s going to fuck up this debut that the young girls worked so hard for, conveniently disappoint Vivi, let Sooyoung’s hardwork of training the girls how to dance go down in the drains, and the whole company, as well.

“Take a damn break,” Jinsol repeats, voice sounding far away, even to her own ears.

Maybe she just needs one more cup of coffee, to get her going for another three hours. But then Hyunjin’s words ring vibrantly in her ears: _don’t drink yourself to death,_ or something like that.

Fine, no more coffee. Jinsol stands up from her chair and stretches, making her way out of her studio as she decides on hot chocolate instead.

The hallways are already empty and dim, as always, no one is dedicated enough (or crazy enough) like Jinsol to want to work overtime willingly. Not that she enjoys it much, it’s just that if their new girl group doesn’t get to debut, Vivi would have no choice but to fire her, and even if she hates her job already, she still kind of loves it.

She drags herself mindlessly across the hallways and to the common area, with shelves full of snacks, coffee, hot chocolate, and everything she needs to survive a bad day at work. Although Vivi’s kind of an asshole sometimes, this is one of the few times where Jinsol actually appreciates her, reminding her that the woman does care about her employees after all.

Her fingers wrap thankfully around the hot chocolate package, ripping it open. The smell makes her think that yeah, maybe not overdosing in caffeine isn’t such a bad idea.

“Rough day?” A voice from behind startles Jinsol enough that she spills some of the chocolate powder on the rim of her cup and on the counter. She curses under her breath and turns around, ready for a fight, because what kind of fucker would come in at 10pm, with the lights dim enough to be part of a horror movie, and speaks so abruptly—

_Oh._

“Shit, don’t do that,” Jinsol sighs in relief (or in horror?) when she sees Jungeun entering from the doorway.

The first thing Jinsol notices is her tight jeans wrapped around her thighs in all their glory, her long, sparkling earrings reflecting the lights from above her, her beige, heavy-looking blouse that screams _Gucci_ glaringly at Jinsol, and finally, her exhausted face.

She also notices how their every encounter includes Jinsol presenting herself in the absolute worst condition, with her eye bags hanging heavily below her eyes, her pale lips and terrible posture—looking like shit, again, basically. She tries not to think about what Jungeun thinks about her.

Fuck, what kind of luck?

“My bad,” Jungeun grimaces, her face sheepish. She walks over to the shelves, hands reaching out for a packet of _coffee._

“It’s 10pm,” funny, Jinsol shouldn’t be the one saying that, because if it wasn’t for Hyunjin, she would’ve been jittering in her own studio due to the abundance of caffeine in her system. Five cups per day isn’t exactly ideal.

Nonetheless, she tries to tell Jungeun to not be like her. 

“I know, but I have a mountain of paperwork sitting on my desk,” Jungeun says, ripping the packet open and completely ignoring Jinsol’s (not so) wise words.

Although it’s nice to know that she’s not suffering alone, it still bothers her to see how exhausted Jungeun seems to be. Is this how Hyunjin feels like every time she sees her hunched over her desk, drowning in work? Helpless and frustrating.

She tries to say something, anything, but there’s really no words that could possibly come out as helpful in any way to the girl who’s making herself a cup of warm coffee, ready to pull an all nighter, it seems.

“How is your—” Just say something, Jinsol, just say _something._ “—washing machine?”

Way to go, Jung Jinsol.

Jungeun pauses, turning around to look at Jinsol. She blinks, and Jinsol wants to sink into the shadows, because that had sounded so stupid. 

“How did you know?” Jungeun asks, and before Jinsol can answer, she nods in realization. “Ah, Sooyoung.”

“Is there something I can do to fix… whatever that needs to be fixed?”

What needs to be fixed is Jinsol’s terrible way of starting a conversation.

Jungeun shakes her head while she takes a sip from her cup. “You didn’t even break it, it was the pipe. I got someone to fix it.”

“I did ruin your jacket, though,” _your jacket that’s ridiculously expensive, how much does Vivi even pay you?_ Saying those words has Jinsol flushing in embarrassment. She just hopes the lights are dim enough to hide it.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Jungeun manages a small smile, voice soft and gentle. “You were drunk."

“A little too drunk,” Jinsol mutters, her tone dripping with guilt. “Maybe I could, I don’t know, do something about it. I’m a woman of conscience.”

At that, Jungeun laughs, her eyes turning into crescents and Jinsol thinks it’s quite a sight to see. If she can’t make herself laugh (genuinely, anyway), maybe she can make other people laugh, she can make Jungeun laugh.

“Okay, woman of conscience,” Jungeun repeats after her, shoulder still shaking from the laughter. “A meal would be nice.”

“I owe way too many people meals ever since that night,” by way too many people, she means Haseul, and Jungeun. “But sure.”

Somehow, Jungeun had gotten them to exchange numbers. “Date and time TBD,” the girl had said. 

Jungeun doesn’t stay any longer for another conversation, and Jinsol’s sort of really, really tired already, too, so they settle for a goodbye. 

This time, Jinsol says, “See you around.”

-

It all started out with a text message one late afternoon, with Jinsol mulling over an intro that she’d finally, _finally_ had the nerve to start. The vibrating of her phone startles her out of her little trance, pulling her attention away from the current song to focus on the text at hand. It’s from Sooyoung, asking if they could grab dinner tonight.

Jinsol lets her thumb hover over the screen for a few seconds, thinking of how to word it properly so that Sooyoung wouldn’t overreact like the dramatic person she is. She could lie, but what good did that ever do to her?

(Jinsol learned her lesson from college where she’d lie to Sooyoung about going out with a girl, because she wasn’t ready to out herself just yet, and Sooyoung had refused to talk to her for three days because she was upset about the fact that Jinsol didn’t think of her as someone who’s close enough to share her deepest secret with.)

Maybe she could try to word it very vaguely and pray that Sooyoung doesn’t pry.

_Jinsol: can’t, im going out tonight_

Sooyoung’s reply is instantaneous. 

_Sooyoungie: with who???_

Of course Sooyoung pries, how naive of Jinsol to think that she wouldn’t.

Well, it’s not a big deal anyway.

_Jinsol: jungeun_

She sees the typing icon appear for a few seconds, disappears, appears again, then disappears, this time for good. Jinsol shrugs and puts down her phone, and she can practically hear Sooyoung’s voice at the back of her head, gasping for air as she feigns hurt, _you chose someone else over me? Your one and only best friend?_

The thing is, Jungeun had texted her two days ago, with confirmed date and time, which is today. Jinsol had agreed, and she plans to keep her promise.

It hasn’t even been five minutes since she last sent Sooyoung a text, and her door bursts open, scaring the living shit out of Jinsol, revealing a panting Sooyoung who looks like she’d just run three laps of a marathon. 

“What the fuck?”

“ _You,_ ” Sooyoung marches in, kicking the door close behind her and pointing a finger accusingly at Jinsol. “I can’t believe you’re going out on a date, with Kim Jungeun, and without telling me, too.”

“It’s not a date,” Jinsol rolls her eyes. _This_ is why, she shouldn’t have said anything, because she knows this is how Sooyoung would react—like it’s the end of the fucking world. “Also, try knocking next time, instead of destroying my door.”

“Wait, wait,” Sooyoung paces around the room, and Jinsol can feel a migraine forming. “How did it happen again? You asking her out on a date, I mean.”

“It’s not a date, Sooyoung, fuck’s sake,” Jinsol repeats, slightly exasperated. “I felt bad for what happened that night, so I thought I’d buy her dinner.”

Sooyoung stops on her feet and blinks at her. Jinsol stares back at her blankly, trying not to think about what kind of messed up idea Sooyoung is having inside her head, she just knows that nothing good can come out from that mind of hers. 

“So, you _abused—”_

“Oh my god, Sooyoung—”

“So you abused the fact that you threw up on her, used it as an excuse, so that you can take her out on a date?”

Jinsol rolls her eyes for what feels like the twentieth time already. " _No,_ it’s called saying sorry. Jesus Christ, I should’ve blocked your number for the rest of tonight.”

“Fine, let’s just say it’s not a date,” Sooyoung has finally calmed down a little—thank god—and she pulls on a chair to sit beside Jinsol. “But who asked?”

Jinsol, still, doesn’t like where this is going. Sooyoung has this tendency of announcing everything to the entire world, which means that Heejin, Hyejoo, Hyunjin, Haseul, hell, even Vivi, literally everyone, would know about her little evening event with Jungeun. And obviously, she does not want that.

“Look,” Jinsol lets out a long sigh. She glances at the lock screen of her phone that displays 5:47pm. “It’s just dinner. I swear, if you go around telling people, spreading rumours, I’ll make sure you never find a girlfriend.”

“Okay, about that—”

Jinsol doesn’t let her finish, because arguments never end when it comes to Sooyoung, so she starts packing up her stuff and grabs her coat, ready to leave. “Anyway, I’m supposed to meet Jungeun downstairs at six, I’ll see you later. Do _not_ text me, or call me.”

She ignores Sooyoung’s triumphant cheer along with her obnoxious _don’t have too much fun!_ echoing from her studio, sighing in relief when she’s sure she’s out of Sooyoung’s reach, the girl can be too much to handle sometimes.

By the time she reaches the parking lot, Jungeun’s already there. She looks much better, if not perfect, the exhaustion in her face has lessened, replaced by pink lips and bright eyes.

“Where are we going?” Jinsol asks, reaching for her car keys.

Jungeun shrugs. “Anywhere, honestly.”

“I’m not about to spend half an hour deciding on what to eat,” Jinsol shakes her head. 

Modern day problems.

Jungeun, really, isn’t picky about anything, but Jinsol is an indecisive little shit. After ten minutes of push and pull, they finally settle for something easy and common, korean barbeque, a comfy little diner located just right at the corner of one of the busiest streets in the city.

The dinner goes smoothly, surprisingly, nothing awkward, nothing too tense, it’s just Jungeun talking, and talking, and _talking._ She talks a whole lot, not that Jinsol minds, it’s painfully endearing, she thinks. 

She learns that Jungeun, just a short two years younger than her, has only been working in Blockberry Creative for ten months, but she’s already got more cool in her pinkie than Jinsol has in her entire body (okay, Jinsol gets that one of the requirements of being a stylist is to have _style,_ but Jungeun doesn’t just have style, she’s also well off enough to own a _Benz,_ talk about being successful). 

Jungeun tells her about how she met Sooyoung (“Funny story,” Jungeun says, her cheeks slightly tinted pink), in one of the bathrooms of their company building, where she ran out of paper in the stall and Sooyoung was coincidentally right outside. The girl had thrown a new roll of toilet paper into the stall from above, hitting Jungeun in the forehead.

“Does sounds like her,” Jinsol laughs and agrees.

This whole time, Jinsol can’t help but notices that Jungeun seems very passionate about her work, about her life, about everything, the exact opposite of Jinsol, who wants nothing but to run away from reality, to just _disappear._ But somehow, they get along well enough like lock-and-key.

She also notices that Jungeun has really, _really,_ pretty eyes. They shine like constellations in the sky when she’s giving Jinsol a dramatic rendition of her high school life, or when she’s telling Jinsol about what kind of fucked up trouble she got into when she was drunk back then in college. 

It’s all so… full of life. _Jungeun_ is so full of life that Jinsol can’t help but watch her in awe.

To be frank, Jinsol hasn’t met anyone quite like her. 

Later that night, after Jinsol drops Jungeun off at where she lives, the moment she gets home, she forgoes doing anything else in favour of pulling out her laptop because she wants to grasp this tingling feeling swarming under her skin before it has a chance to disappear, something that she hasn’t felt in a long, long time: _inspiration._

She quickly opens up a draft and gives it a title.

_Intro: The girl who truly lives._

-

The annual general meeting is something Jinsol doesn’t particularly enjoy, because it’s when she has to actually go out of her way and _talk_ to people she doesn’t even recognize. On top of that, pretends like she’s having the time of her life when she’d rather be in her studio, drowning in a pile of music sheets.

But on the bright side, there’s free booze, after all, and free food, too. Jinsol can see the lobster over there, she knows that at some point she’s gonna fill her plate with it. For now, she settles on the starters, enjoying the shrimp salad and champagne.

Sooyoung downs the rest of her drink and puts the glass down on the table. “Gotta go take this call real quick,” she says. “Try not to look for me.”

She excuses herself with a light pat on Jinsol’s shoulder as she walks away, leaving the hall of the hotel, usually used to hold press conferences and such. Now, it’s packed with directors, producers, shareholders, all of Blockberry Creative, basically.

Jinsol puts no mind to Sooyoung and proceeds to the drinks table, trying to avoid eye contact with anyone. God, she hates formal dinners. 

“Jung Jinsol PD-nim?”

Ah shit, here we go.

Jinsol spins around reluctantly, cursing under her breath. She’s met with a pair of curious eyes.

“I’ve heard a lot about you from Hyejoo,” the girl says, and Jinsol tilts her head to the right in mild confusion. The girl seems to notice it as she continues, “Park Chaewon, production team manager.”

Jinsol vaguely remembers Hyejoo mentioning this name, something about an annoying green-haired who has the face of an angel, but the heart of a devil, whatever that means.

“Nice to meet you,” Jinsol tries her best to manage a smile. “Hyejoo’s in your team, I hope she’s not causing too much trouble.”

“Absolutely not,” Chaewon shakes her head. “Oh, except that one time she pressed her entire face on the photocopy machi—”

“Shut up, shut up, _shut up—”_

Hyejoo’s suddenly on Chaewon, seemingly out of nowhere, and they both wrestle their way out of the argument.

By the head of the table stands Heejin, sheepish. “Good evening,” she greets, staring at the bottle in her hand. “Does Bailey taste good with cherry vodka?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Hyunjin interjects, uncapping the bottle she’s holding, then she starts dropping the liquid in a big, empty bowl, Heejin shrugs and adds the Bailey as well. 

Jinsol doesn’t even want to question where they got those from (Vivi had decided on getting just beer and coolers for everyone because she knows there’d be uncivilized people like Hyunjin and Heejin who are only going to make a big mess under the influence of hard liquor, but there's really no stopping them when they're so determined to get wrecked).

“I’m not drinking that shit,” Jinsol frowns, because she understands herself well enough. By that, she means she knows where her self-control lies, and if she gets started with the drinks, she’s going to end up completely hammered. Jinsol at least has the decency to not want to get drunk in the middle of a company dinner.

“You’re kidding me, how’d you even sneak the bottles in?”

Hyunjin’s face brightens up at the owner of the voice, one arm thrown in the air in an obnoxious wave as she beckons Jungeun closer into their circle.

“This is Junguen,” Hyunjin introduces, gesturing to Jungeun. “This is Heejin, and you remember the person who threw up on you, right?”

Jinsol glares at her, unimpressed. The last thing she needs is someone bringing that embarrassing escapade up again.

“We’ve had a few run-ins after that,” Jungeun counters smoothly, standing next to Jinsol, their shoulders brushing.

Jungeun looks like she’d long stopped minding, her smile easy and her eyes alight with amusement and focused on Hyunjin, who’s busy bitching about how gross the mixed drink tastes, _it’s Heejin’s fault._

“Maybe some smirnoff ice will make it taste better,” Heejin suggests, face scrunching up at the drink after taking a sip. “Or coke.”

“ _No,”_ Hyunjin gives her a dirty look. “What are you trying to do, mixing Bailey with coke? You’ll end up poisoning us.”

Heejin pouts, and beside Jinsol, Jungeun laughs at their antics. “Some fruits would probably do the trick, strawberries and such,” she suggests.

Heejin’s face lights up like Jungeun had just said the most brilliant thing in the entire world. She practically hops her way to the fruits sections, grabs a plate, fills it up with as many berries as possible, and dumps all of them into the drink.

“You should not have encouraged them,” Jinsol tells Jungeun, staring into the murky depths of the drink with mild horror.

Jungeun nudges her in the sides. “Don’t wanna ruin their fun, you know.”

Somehow, a mini crowd has formed around Heejin and Hyunjin’s little business, mostly with people who are either stressed as fuck or just simply done with life. 

Somehow, fifteen minutes later, Jinsol finds herself downing a cup of the drink, grimacing as it burns her throat (Hyunjin had shoved the drink into her face, and Jinsol, with her terribly navigated will power, just couldn’t refuse). Jungeun had warned her at one point, to not drink it, or at least drink _slowly,_ because _I don’t want you throwing up again, Jinsol._

“I’ll be fine,” Jinsol reassures her, but Jungeun’s face tells her that she didn’t sound as convincing as she thought she did.

By the fourth (or fifth round of mixers, Jinsol’s not too fucking sure anymore), Jinsol feels a little bit lightheaded, her vision starting to blur. It’s starting, she knows. This is the boundary between sober and drunk. Tipsy, maybe.

“You should probably stop drinking,” Jungeun’s standing in front of her, hands reaching out to take away the cup from Jinsol’s hands. “Unless you wanna die, or make a scene and get fired.”

“I’m fine,” Jinsol grits out, trying to grab her cup back. “I’m sober enough.”

It’s a lie and they both know it, because the second Jinsol stops leaning on the table behind her and tries to walk, the whole world starts to spin. 

She snatches her hand out for anything, anyone, for Jungeun, her fingers finding safety on the hem of Jungeun’s shirt.

“I don’t want to say _I told you so,”_ Jungeun trails off, prying Jinsol’s fingers off of her, but not letting go. She wraps a hand around Jinsol’s arm, giving it an experimental tug before nodding again to the general direction of the exit. “But, I told you so.”

Jinsol rolls her eyes (bad idea, as if the world isn’t spinning already), and scoffs out a, “Shut up.”

Jungeun manages to weave them through the crowd, her hold around Jinsol never once letting up, and Jinsol, mind in a haze, follows after her blindly, only half-aware of the fact that this is Kim Jungeun dragging her outside for air. Kim Jungeun, whom she hadn’t known for more than three weeks, and yet she’s here, making sure Jinsol doesn’t pass out like she did last time.

Once they’re outside and a block down from the hotel, everything dies down around Jinsol. Outside is quiet, the silence between her and Jungeun comfortable. Surprisingly so.

Jungeun’s still holding onto her hand, and that’s oddly reminiscent of their second meeting. But unlike that time, Jinsol finds herself not minding all that much.

“How are you feeling?” Jungeun asks, finally lowering her hold around Jinsol’s arm. 

Jinsol might be pale but she’s feeling extra pasty tonight, she can feel it now, even, the colour draining from her face, lips chapped dry and her eyes heavy.

“Like total shit,” Jinsol manages to blurt out. “This dinner was shit, too, I’ve got nothing to celebrate about, I haven’t been able to write songs—ah, fuck,” In the middle of her rant, Jinsol loses her balance. Jungeun surges for her immediately, hands gripping on her arm. Jinsol tells her she’s okay, don’t worry, and leans on a lamppost as a support instead. “The food was gross, and Sooyoung disappeared on me in the first ten minutes of the dinner.”

The moment Jinsol realizes she’d been ranting, she regrets it instantly. She hadn’t meant to give so much away, about the bottleneck she’s hitting in her life right now, about how shitty she’s feeling, about how she’s just had enough.

Jungeun says nothing, the worry on her face gradually growing. She places a hand on Jinsol’s back, tapping lightly on it. It doesn’t do much, but it’s enough. 

Having Jungeun here is enough.

“Sorry,” Jinsol mutters.

“Don’t be,” Jungeun says, hands still patting soothingly on Jinsol’s back. “If it’s any consolation, Sooyoung probably went off somewhere with Jiwoo.”

Jinsol blinks at her. “Who?”

“Jiwoo? Sooyoung’s girlfriend?”

Jinsol wonders if it’s the alcohol, or the pain piercing through her head, that’s making her iffy, hearing the wrong things. 

“Sooyoung’s girl— _what?”_

Not good, this is not good. The world is spinning, Jinsol is about to die from the terrible headache, as if these are not unfortunate enough, and now Sooyoung has a girlfriend? Jinsol’s not sober enough for this, fucking christ.

“Oh no,” Jungeun lets out a nervous chuckle, shoulders immediately tensing up. “Perhaps I wasn’t supposed to tell you that, but.”

“But?”

“But yeah, they’ve been dating for almost two months now, I think.”

Jinsol shuts her eyes close, a frown forming on her forehead. She can’t think, this is not the time. She lets her mind go autopilot as she tries to digest the information. And fails.

“I think,” Jinsol thinks she’s gurgling, talking underwater. She hopes Jungeun can still understand her. “Home,” Jinsol drawls, pushing off of the streetlamp she’d been leaning on.

Jungeun’s gaze follows her, the girl’s footsteps light as she trails after Jinsol. “Home?” She repeats, the word sounding foreign, like she’s not quite sure what Jinsol’s talking about.

“Home,” Jinsol says again, hands groping at her pockets, searching for her car keys. “Or else I’m going to drop dead.”

“You’re not driving,” Jungeun’s suddenly in front of her, hand snatching at the keys Jinsol’s finally managed to locate. “You’re going to actually die if you try to drive like this, and Sooyoung’s never going to forgive me,” she says it with a little flourish in her words, like she’s partly joking and partly serious.

“Alright then,” Jinsol scowls, attempting to take the keys back from Jungeun. “Fine, keep the goddamn keys, I’m walking home.”

They’re so close that Jinsol can finally see Jungeun’s face clearly for once, not blurred out by her spinning vision. Her eyebrows are furrowed and eyes narrowing suspiciously at Jinsol’s drunk staggering.

And then the next thing she knows, Jungeun is dragging her again, to god knows where. “I’m driving you home.”

The rest of the journey are blurred and muffled, because the alcohol has gotten the better of her. The only thing surrounding her senses are the white noises when Jungeun’s driving, but she doesn’t get to hear the rest, because she blacks out from there, her consciousness getting pulled into the darkness of sleep.

  
-

The rays that beam through the crack of the curtains pulls Jinsol out of her dreamless sleep.

She opens her eyes and instantly regrets it because of the painful pang that rips through her head, the hangover making her want to either sleep for the next four days or bang her head against the wall, instantly shutting them close. 

She groans painfully, covering her head with the blanket. So much for having self-control, it’s Hyunjin’s fault.

The shuffling sound in her room makes her peak an eye through the blanket, her eyes about to come to a shut again, heavy with drowsiness, until—

Until she realizes this is not her room.

“Oh, you’re awake,” a voice says from the corner of the bed, shuffling through the closet. 

It’s a figure that Jinsol refuses to acknowledge, because it sounds too terrifying to be true. She immediately glances into her blanket, only to see that she’s fully attired—thank _god._

“You passed out in the car last night, and I didn’t know where you live, so,” Jungeun smiles apologetically, like she’s just committed a crime. 

“It’s okay,” Jinsol waves her off, her voice sounding uncharacteristically groggy. 

She shifts on her position, her arms pushing against the fabric of the bed to support her weight. Jungeun stares at her as she tries to push herself out of bed, her expression blank, unreadable. 

“Um,” Jungeun starts, rubbing at her nape awkwardly. “Jiwoo’s picking me up soon.”

A nicer way to put it, that is. Jinsol nods, getting the message that Jungeun wants her to get the fuck out her house because all she’s been to the girl was trouble. 

“Jiwoo?” Jinsol squints her eyes at the name, because she swears she knows it from somewhere. “Ah,” yeah, she knows it because it’s the root of all evil. “Sooyoung’s… girlfriend.”

The memories from last night come crashing into her like waves would the shore. She remembers vividly of the way Jungeun had dragged her out of a place called agony, into the night air, and just being with her, all pretty and kind. And also the alarming news where her best friend has gotten a girlfriend without her knowing.

“Sooyoung’s girlfriend,” Jungeun nods and chuckles. She fishes something out of her pocket and hands it to Jinsol. 

Her car keys. 

Right, because Jinsol was so drunk that she needed Jungeun to babysit her, drive her home, and make sure she doesn’t die of alcohol poisoning. Well, she certainly hopes that she did die from alcohol because what’s worse than that is dying of embarrassment. 

“Are you sober enough to drive?” Jungeun asks her, face worried.

Jinsol snorts. “I’m fantastic, thanks for asking.”

Jungeun lets out a laugh. “I can see the sass coming back. Yeah, you’re fine.”

Before she makes her leave, Jungeun shoves a bag of Mcdonald’s takeout into her hands, face serious. “ _Eat,_ or else,” she says.

Jinsol lets a small smile take over her lips, her chest swarming with an unfamiliar wave of warmth. _Touched,_ she would say. Weird, because it’s never that way when other people do it. 

This time, instead of apologizing like she usually would, she says, “Thank you, Jungeun,” and she hopes that Jungeun knows it’s genuine. 

Jungeun does.

-

“So,” Sooyoung begins by tapping the side of her glass with her fingers. It only serves to irritate Jinsol even more. “So,” she repeats, this time without the glass-tapping.

“So,” Jinsol echoes, resolutely avoiding her eyes in favour of staring at the terrible tomato soup sitting in front of her. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

Sooyoung, predictably, colours a furious shade of red. She even chokes on her pasta, sputtering as she tries to push the food down with water. When Jinsol all but stares at her, watching her struggle, Sooyoung chokes on the water, too. 

Jinsol, finally, tears her eyes away from her soup, she watches as Sooyoung recollects herself, trying hard to gather up the last remaining strands of pride she’s got, given the most shameful display of choking Jinsol’s ever seen.

“For the record,” Sooyoung says, rather slowly. “I was going to tell you right after the dinner that day, but according to Hyunjin, you ran off with Jungeun.”

That’s laughable, given that Sooyoung had run off first, without ever revealing where she went with Jiwoo, which makes her excuse invalid. 

“You had like what, two months worth of time to break the news, and yet,” Jinsol rolls her eyes. She’s not really angry, per se, just a little annoyed, and disappointed. Sooyoung had no right to be upset about Jinsol keeping a secret from her that one time because Sooyoung herself is a goddamn hypocrite. “By the way, you disappeared on me first, just in case if you hadn’t noticed.”

“We were at a _hotel,_ Jinsol, I just had to,” Sooyoung throws her hand up in the air, desperate to get her point across. 

Point not taken because Jinsol eyes her with disgust, the last thing she needs is the image of her best friend doing—doing god knows _what,_ in a hotel room with her girlfriend, said hotel being the one where they had a company dinner in. “I am extremely bothered by that piece of unnecessary information.”

“Fine,” Sooyoung sighs, finally giving in. “I swear, I wasn’t deliberately hiding it from you, it’s just that I didn’t think we’d last that long.”

Jinsol scoffs. “And the fact that Jungeun knows it before me, too.”

“That’s because Jiwoo is her friend!” Sooyoung looks like she’s whining, pleading, even, and to be honest, Jinsol finds entertainment in it.

She gives up on tormenting Sooyoung (two days of intense silent treatment and cold glares over coffee during breakfast and lunch in the company cafeteria, with Sooyoung sighing every time she catches Jinsol glaring at her from across the room, unrelenting and so, so fucking petty) and just shakes her head. 

“So,” she says, more as a way to end the conversation than anything. “I’m reconsidering my best-friend choices. Also, next time, at least have the decency to not do it in the middle of Vivi’s dinner because if she finds out that her best choreographer had left the event for sex, she’s going to be so pissed.”

She glares at Sooyoung, willing her to look away, or protest like she normally would, but Sooyoung does none of that, and Jinsol suspects it has a lot to do with how she had just watched her friend choked and struggled to breathe, given that the tips of her ears are still tinted pink.

After the waiter comes by with the cheque and Sooyoung pays for it (because Jinsol’s not paying for any of their meals in the next, say, few months, not after Sooyoung had just violated the best friend protocol), they leave the restaurant. On their way out, Sooyoung slings her arm around Jinsol’s shoulder and pouts, silently screaming _I’m sorry._

Jinsol doesn’t swat her arms away, and Sooyoung smiles in relief, because the best friend protocol also says to not stay mad for more than three days.

-

_The sky is dark but you’re the light,_

_I’m blinded and yet you shine so bright._

Jinsol narrows her eyes at the lyrics glaring at her from the screen, her mind immediately emptying out, cringes, and deletes them.

She has been repeating the same process—write, delete, write, delete again—for the better part of two hours already, it’s about time she starts being actually productive. Or call it a day, whichever. Maybe even call Jungeun, if the girl hasn’t got anything else planned, and—

And, _god,_ they’ve only ever spent a few nights together, mostly with Jinsol being drunk out of her mind, and here she is, debating whether she should call first. Or text first, or just head down to her office to demand her attention. Pretend to be passing by, say hi. Or shit.

It’s stupid, the fact that Jinsol thinks about Jungeun first thing when she starts to run out of inspiration and idea, because she had been independent enough to survive three years in the company, producing a few hits here and there, all without the presence of Jungeun. 

But now, now she needs something, _someone._

A knock on her door pulls her out of her maze of thoughts, the door then creaks open, alerting Jinsol of a much needed distraction. As if the universe is psychic (it totally is), Kim Jungeun pokes her head through the small crack.

“Hi,” she says, voice soft, like she’s afraid of bothering Jinsol. And no, Jungeun has never been a bother, Jinsol wholeheartedly admits. “Are you busy?”

“No,” Jinsol replies almost immediately, gesturing for Jungeun to come in. 

A lie, because she has a verse of a whole song to worry about right now, but Jungeun doesn’t need to know that, because all the younger girl has been to her is kind. Jinsol can never refuse Jungeun something as simple as keeping her company.

“I’m off work, just thought I’d come and say hi,” Jungeun walks in slowly, shutting the door behind her. 

Funny, because Jinsol was thinking about the same thing.

Jungeun drops her bag on an empty chair and looks around the office, and in the dimly lit room, Jinsol can barely make out the shifting of Jungeun’s gaze from all the recording equipment to Jinsol. She looks nervous all of a sudden. “Sorry, I know I should’ve called before coming, but.”

Jinsol’s throat is dry, her fingers twitching in her side. She’s sitting just a few steps away from Jungeun, gaze fixed on the girl who’s got the entire horizon in her backdrop, following her around whenever.

“You can drop by anytime, Jungeun,” Jinsol says with a smile she hopes is good enough to appease her nerves. It’s more of a twitching at the corner of her lips, but it’s enough because suddenly, the tension from Jungeun’s shoulders seep right out of her, a tired little sigh escaping from her lips as she walks over closer to Jinsol.

“Really?” She asks, worrying lightly on her lower lips.

Jinsol rolls her eyes, earning a chuckle from the other girl.

Jungeun looks soft, tired, but she’s got a bit of a spark in her eyes that tells Jinsol that she’s not about to collapse on her feet, and Jinsol wants that. She wants to feel that warmth, wants to bask in it. She wants to lean in—not for a kiss, _no—_ but for a hug, instead. Jungeun looks like she’d give really nice hugs.

Jinsol’s not entirely sure where she got the idea from, maybe it’s the way Jungeun doesn’t seem to mind putting up with Jinsol’s mess, or the way she smiles like she means it, or the way she cares, about the little things around her, about _Jinsol._

“I hope you don’t mind,” Jinsol says, her legs already standing up from the chair she’s sitting on before her mind can even tell her to do otherwise. It might be a bad idea, but for now, Jinsol just needs something she can hold on to. 

Jungeun looks confused, but Jinsol doesn’t think she needs to further elaborate as she takes a few steps forward, rests her head on the shorter girl’s right shoulder, and lets out a long sigh that’s been stuck in her throat the whole day.

Around them, there’s nothing but silence, and the longer it drags on, the more Jinsol regrets what she’s doing. She thinks she’d just invaded Jungeun’s personal space, with their bodies practically glued to each other, and she’s about to pull away (because Jinsol is a woman of respect), but a pair of arms prevents her from doing that, sliding around her neck and pulling her in into a tight hug.

And Jinsol’s right, Jungeun does give really nice hugs.

“Are you okay?” Jinsol can feel the vibration of Jungeun’s voice throughout her body. It’s oddly soothing. “You look like you’re about to throw up again.”

“Fuck off, Jungeun,” Jinsol breathes out, her cheeks burning up from embarrassment. She instantly regrets it, though, because Jungeun drops her arms, the warmth of her skin now gone. Jinsol almost _whines,_ pressing further into the hug, desperate for comfort. “No, no, I’m kidding.”

Jungeun laughs as she slings her arms back, securing them tightly around Jinsol’s neck. Jinsol returns the gesture by wrapping her arms around Jungeun’s waist.

This is, nice, and somehow different from all the other hugs Jinsol’s shared with other people. It’s probably because she needs it the most right now.

“I’m so tired,” Jinsol whispers into Jungeun’s shoulder, her fragrant lavender scent making Jinsol feel a little bit giddy on the inside.

Jungeun hums, hands patting lightly on Jinsol’s back. It reminds her of that time when she was dragged out of the hotel, except this time, she’s much, much more sober. Jinsol prefers this more than anything else, really, because the sense of Jungeun’s touch is inked into her, not blurred out by the effects of alcohol.

“Adulthood,” Jungeun simply says.

Jinsol manages a low and bitter chuckle. “Adulthood.”

The silence around them turns comfortable, just white noise and Jungeun’s rhythmical breathing. Jinsol wants to stay in this position a little while longer, but she thinks she might have come off a little whiny, like a fucking toddler, asking for a hug out of nowhere. How dumb is that? She obliges, hands sliding off when the door turns, the knob clicking open.

They both freeze, startled. Jinsol watches as the door opens and Hyunjin stands, mouth hanging open and whatever greeting she has lost as she braces herself at the doorway, Heejin running straight into her. 

It could have been comical, watching the two girls fall onto Jinsol’s floor, but instead, it’s painful, and had Jinsol not felt bad for them, then she would’ve been mad because of course, Hyunjin wouldn’t knock, of fucking course, no one ever does

It’s Sooyoung who breaks the silence, cutting into the heaviest, most awkward air ever. 

“Holy _shit,”_ Sooyoung gasps, eyes wide and a hand pointing at the both of them. Jungeun clears her throat, stepping away from Jinsol and shifting awkwardly on her position.

Jinsol glares at the three of them, because this, the interruption, hadn’t been in the plan. Pressing up against Jungeun and maybe, maybe cuddling on her office couch, was definitely the plan, but now that’s gone, with Sooyoung practically jumping in her spot and gesturing excitedly at the both of them.

Hyunjin and Heejin push themselves off of the floor, the looks on their face equally embarrassed. 

“Wow, okay,” Heejin says while Hyunjin slaps a hand over Sooyoung’s mouth, effectively cutting off the long stream of “I knew it, I knew it, I so fucking knew it.”

“We were, um, going to ask if you wanted to hang out tonight,” Hyunjin says, eyes looking everywhere but at Jinsol. “But I see you already have something else planned.”

Jinsol glowers at the three of them, groans out a, “Get out, all of you,” and closes her eyes, trying to ignore the heat creeping up her neck and onto the tip of her ears. 

Beside her, Jungeun gives up on keeping her composure, hand resting on Jinsol’s shoulder as she leans weakly against her, shoulders shaking and her laughter loud.

-

Jinsol wasn’t intending to follow her friends to Sooyoung’s place for a hangout, because of the little surprise they just pulled at her doorway, but Jungeun mentioned something about Jiwoo joining them. And as much as Jinsol hates to admit, she does want to meet her, see what kind of girl Sooyoung has fallen head over heels for. 

Thus, she finds herself parked up in the guest parking of Sooyoung’s apartment.

After they all get off their car, a hand slings itself around her shoulders, patting on it as if it’s mocking her. Jinsol clenches her jaw and inhales a sharp breath, “Not a _word,_ Ha Sooyoung.”

Sooyoung laughs, her face amused and smug. Jinsol would’ve physically throttled her over the fence if it wasn’t for Jungeun tagging closely behind them. 

The evening—for once, godbless _Jesus—_ goes on without anyone getting drunk. At one point, Heejin had complained about drinking beer and Hyunjin had nodded in agreement, but Sooyoung’s voice is offended and a little exasperated when she announces that she wants everyone to be sober and presentable for Jiwoo.

“She should drink with us,” Hyunjin says, eyes brightening up at the idea.

Sooyoung gives her a dirty look. “Jiwoo doesn’t drink.”

The pizza that they ordered arrives not too long after, and that’s also around the time Jiwoo comes by.

Jiwoo is a bright girl of pale skin and round eyes with an awfully adorable smile. She jumps on Jungeun the moment she sees her, letting out a high pitched “Jungeun!”, earning a strangled “hey, Jiwooming,” from Jungeun.

Jinsol watches with amusement (and endearment) as her smile goes from cheeky to a little shy when Sooyoung reaches a hand out for her to take, fingers immediately intertwining. 

It’s a thing of wonder, really, seeing her best friend’s demeanor change when she’s around Jiwoo. Jinsol would totally make fun of her, but she supposes that can wait, for now, she settles for just being happy for Sooyoung.

“So, this is Jiwoo,” Sooyoung says, her face tentative, like she’s trying to gauge a reaction from everyone. “Jiwoo, this is Heejin, Hyunjin, and that’s Jinsol.”

Jiwoo’s eyes scan through all of them, waving at Heejin and Hyunjin, and when they land on Jinsol, her eyes go wide and her jaw hangs slightly open.

“Oh my god,” she gasps dramatically, her reaction identical to Sooyoung’s when she’s surprised or overly excited. Okay, now Jinsol sees why they come together in pairs. “You’re the Jinsol that Jungeun won’t shut up about.”

Jungeun chokes on her beer, spluttering as she coughs. Hyunjin pulls out a piece of pizza and looks away, but Jinsol can already see her laughing from the way her body bends down and shoulders jittering. Heejin doesn’t even try to hide it, her teeth on full display. That little shit.

It takes Jinsol a whole lot of willpower to not melt into a pile of goo right on the spot, likely caused by embarrassment and mostly because of the burning urge to kick Hyunjin and Heejin in the ass.

 _“Kim Jiwoo,”_ Jungeun manages to croak out, her face red from all the choking, probably.

“Oh, okay, my bad,” Jiwoo gives her an angelic smile, unapologetic in the least. Beside her, Sooyoung shoots Jinsol a knowing look. “Anyway.”

_Anyway._

The rest of the evening is filled with shrieks and laughter, Jiwoo and Sooyoung being disgustingly in love and all over each other, and Jinsol just simply enjoying the company.

Somehow, in the middle of everything, Jungeun had dragged her out of the comfort of being indoors and to the balcony of Sooyoung’s apartment unit, carefully sliding the glass door close. 

Now there’s no more laughter, no more screams, just the sound of traffic and whirling wind.

“Jiwoo can be a little… too much sometimes,” Jungeun starts, her expression sheepish. 

“Yeah?” Jinsol snorts in amusement. “I can see that.”

Jungeun walks up to where Jinsol’s leaning against the railings, her breath stalling when she takes in the sight down below. It’s just buildings, concrete, more buildings, and people dotting the road below, but Jinsol knows that that’s not the view that’s suddenly got Jungeun quiet.

It’s the sky, spread out around them, wrapping the entire city in different shades of blue and pink, a blanket of warm, beautiful colours settling around this part of the world. It’s breathtaking, Jinsol thinks, her eyes set on the horizon with all its pretty shades, with the sun setting behind the clouds.

It’s a good view.

Jungeun slowly turns away from staring at the sky and turns to look at Jinsol, a calm, if not a little bit lazy, smile on her face, her tired eyes slowly fluttering to a close, and Jungeun’s _lashes—_ they’re long enough to almost graze the top of her cheeks.

That’s a good view, too, Jinsol thinks.

(As soon as the thought passes, Jinsol flushes, her pale cheeks suddenly dusted with pink.)

“Did you drag me out here just to look at the sky?” Jinsol asks, not that she minds that much anyway. 

“Maybe,” Jungeun shrugs. “I mean, it’s really nice outside. Fresh air.”

It’s not much of the fresh air, per se, they’re still in the middle of the city, but Jinsol nods her head yes, because she sort of understands—the vastness of the sky and how tiny and insignificant everything is compared to it.

She’s not going to lie, it’s been hard, still is, working in a huge company, producing music she’s not even sure she likes anymore. Living the kind of life she’d sworn she would never live, that’s hard. Realizing the adult life has been everything that she’d dreaded, it’s hard. But being here on the 23rd floor, overlooking everything else, with Jungeun, well, it helps relieve some of that stress. It helps Jinsol clear her mind.

Maybe, it’s not so much the sky, maybe, it’s the girl who’s standing beside her, her eyes closing when the wind brushes her cheeks.

Some people don’t have to try, Jinsol realizes. There’s an ease to Jungeun, a certain air of calm and friendliness that she carries around with her, whenever, wherever. It’s hard to not feel at ease when she’s around Jungeun.

They aren’t so much as talking as just standing side by side, staring up at the sky, down at the city, and sometimes glancing at each other at opportune times when the other isn’t looking (Jinsol catches Jungeun staring at her a beat too long, and while Jinsol feels the tell-tale warming of her cheeks in a flush, Jungeun just beams at her, shrugging her shoulders).

Jungeun leans against her then, her hand circling around Jinsol’s and intertwining them together. This time, it's not because she's drunk and Jungeun has to make sure she stands on her feet or anything, instead, it looks a lot like Jungeun just _wanting_ to do it. Jinsol can feel the hairs on the back of her arm standing, suddenly electric at their closeness.

They’d practically have their bodies _pressed_ against each other a few hours ago, so maybe this isn’t too much of a long shot.

“Maybe you should write a song about this,” Jungeun stretches her other hand out, as far as possible, her fingers splaying out in the open air.

“About what?” Jinsol asks, tearing her eyes away from Jungeun to look at the direction of her finger, pointing above them, at the different hues bleeding into each other.

“I know I’m not one to give advice about producing,” Jungeun’s pauses, face tentative. Jinsol shakes her head and urges her to continue. “Or writing, really. But this is beautiful,” she clenches her hand into a fist, grasping at nothing. “Write about this.”

“Maybe,” Jinsol muses.

(Jinsol might have said ‘maybe’ but she really meant _I’m working on it._

And she does, truly taking in Jungeun’s words, writing them on the draft in her laptop when she finally gets home.

She writes a song about the girl who dreams of basking in the sea of clouds. _The girl who truly lives.)_

-

It doesn’t come rushing back to her all at once, no, inspiration comes back to her slowly, trickling in through the cracks in her bones and settling deep into her core. Jinsol welcomes it back, arms wide open and her mind at ease. 

She manages to get the demo of the title track written, at least. There’s still some editing to do, but for now, this is good enough.

Vivi loves the song, and that’s saying something, since Vivi hardly says her praise out right. A perfectionist, she is, and Jinsol understands, because she’s exactly the same.

With the Vivi stamp of approval practically plastered on the song, Jinsol feels slightly better. And to think she thought she was going to fuck it up, send these rookie idols straight to their grave before they even had the chance to truly shine.

As a reward, Jinsol excuses herself early from work but not going home immediately. She heads down to the eighth floor, knowing that Jungeun’s making up for lost time by exerting even more effort into work. 

Jinsol wants to tell her that she’s got the song done, the song that Jungeun had told her to write about. Wants to share her music because Jungeun deserves to be one of the first ones to hear it.

She feels a little bit nervous, because this is the first time she’ll be showing her work to someone other than Vivi and some fellow producers before the release.

 _God,_ it’s so gross, her feeling nervous and such, making her feel like she’s in high school all over again. It’s just Jungeun, just the girl who holds all the warmth and wonders in the heart of her palm.

She knocks her knuckles against the door when she’s standing in front of Jungeun’s office, her hand going to twist the cold doorknob. 

The moment she enters, she didn’t expect an eyeful of two bodies pressed up against each other. She didn’t expect to see a stranger, admittedly very, very attractive, her hands placed on Jungeun’s waist, too close to be considered friendly.

Jungeun whips around, the look of shock on her face is unsettling.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” Jinsol splutters, heart sinking to the floor. “I didn’t mean to, um, interrupt.”

As she turns on her heels and dashes off, she ignores everything around her, even as she hears her name echoing through the hallway.

-

The next two days pass by in a blur. Jinsol feels like she’s suspended in amniotic fluid, floating through life in a thick haze.

“I’ll get your coffee,” Sooyoung says with a painful smile on her face. Jinsol tries to muster a smile but she knows it comes out as a grimace when Sooyoung sighs and walks to the coffee machine.

Jinsol doesn’t talk about it—she doesn’t mention that the problem is Jungeun, either, because it’s not. It’s just Jinsol being stupid, thinking that what they had was something intimate, something special, but it’s all just in her head, apparently.

Sooyoung, on the other hand, doesn’t need to ask, because they’ve known each other for years, like the back of their palm, so it’s really not hard to put two and two together.

“Drink,” Sooyoung says bluntly, pushing a cup of warm coffee into Jinsol’s hand. “Okay,” she tries again, this time her tone firm. “What’s wrong?”

Jinsol doesn’t drink her favourite coffee, instead, she just stares at it, mind hazy. She looks up from the drink, eyes blank, and says, “Nothing’s wrong.”

It’s a lie that Jinsol knows Sooyoung doesn’t buy, because she doesn’t buy it herself either. 

“You sent me a text yesterday, in the middle of the afternoon, asking me if I had alcohol or _cigarettes._ This morning, you accidentally bumped into me and said _sorry._ Jung Jinsol, _saying_ sorry? So don’t tell me nothing’s wrong. _”_

It’s terrifying sometimes, how well Sooyoung knows her. It’s also terrifying to accept the fact that the mighty Jung Jinsol PD-nim is here sitting in the company cafeteria, sulking over something so dumb and unnecessary, at eleven in the morning.

(Jinsol had purposely come down here at the most untimely time just to avoid lunch hour, to avoid Jungeun.)

Sooyoung presses a little bit further. “Is this about Jungeun?”

When Jinsol all but answers, Sooyoung nods and takes it as a yes.

“Are you,” the girl pauses, takes a deep breath, and continues. “In love? With her?”

Love is a strong word, and Jinsol can say it when she knows that the person she’s saying it to is feeling the same way, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t know, because she hadn’t been in love in so long, that she’d forgotten the entirety of it.

But it’s not Jungeun’s fault, because she doesn’t belong to anyone, she’s a fully grown adult, who can date whoever she wants, hug whoever she pleases, and hold hands with whoever she desires. So Jinsol, really, shouldn’t be upset about seeing someone else taking her place (it’s not even her place to begin with, having this thought is so, so humiliating).

Honestly speaking, Jinsol’s too scared to call it love.

“I don’t know,” Jinsol finally says.

“Are you happy when you’re with her?” Sooyoung asks thoughtfully. “Because to me, you do seem happier when you’re with her.”

Happy is an understatement. With Jungeun around, Jinsol’s not too sure what to call it, it feels like a waltz, a salsa, a magical dream, whatever you want to call it. Call her a sap, but she supposes that honesty is the right path to take right now.

“Yeah,” Jinsol whispers, voice barely audible. “I think I am.”

Sooyoung smiles, shrugging. “There, you have your answer.”

-

Even with all the sense of responsibility and stress sitting heavily on her shoulder, Jinsol manages to finally, _finally,_ finish up the title track with one last touch. Heck, she even got started with the side track. 

She taps her pencil lightly against the edge of the notebook, closes her eyes, and allows herself another moment to think, to breathe, because Jinsol can feel it coming to her, the words, the notes, the melody—it’s at the tips of her fingers, she knows it.

When it does hit, she scribbles a couple of lines down, hunched over the desk and intent clear in her eyes. She’s going to get this done today, even when the clock is already displaying a few minutes past nine, she’s not going home unless she has the melody, or the lyrics. Anything distracting enough so she can fully drown in work, without having to worry about something else. Or, someone else.

Jinsol even went so far as to switch up her working space, have a little change of environment. Instead of her own studio, she settles for a smaller recording room not too far from her own. 

It’s partly because she wants to avoid Jungeun, as petty as that sounds, but mostly because she needs to get this done—seven months left until the rookies’ debut date, and she’s only got one more month before the toll becomes absolutely demanding. The last thing she needs is Jungeun come crashing into her and fucking up the last strands of sanity she’s got. 

Her phone is discarded somewhere, a set of headphones covering her ears, free of distraction. With the quiet of the too-late hour, she’ll make it.

A snippet of the intro, four lines, and ten notes is all she has in her notebook before the headphones on her head are abruptly yanked away, a little surprised yelp coming out of her mouth. 

“What—”

_“Jung Jinsol.”_

She’s met with a pair of eyes that screams sadness, disappointment, anger—everything that the owner isn’t. Jungeun stands before her, hands holding onto her headphones, eyebrows furrowed, looking vulnerable and so, so exhausted like she’s about to fall on her knees any second.

Jinsol wants to tell her that everything is okay, nothing has changed, but the words end up getting caught in her throat, because she’s a coward, and an idiot, who won’t admit that seeing Jungeun with someone else haunts her. An idiot who won’t admit that she’s in love.

“It sucks,” Jungeun starts, her voice a bit shaky and with a hint of anger. “It fucking _sucks_ to know that you’re avoiding me.”

Jinsol wonders. She wonders how Jungeun found her, but then she realizes there’s only this many recording rooms in the building—eight, max, including her own, and all in the same floor, too. Jungeun probably went through all of them, one by one, and it makes her think, oh it makes her think alright.

Jungeun, amidst the cold shoulder and silent treatment, is trying so hard for her, while all Jinsol does is run away. 

Stupid, stupid, _stupid—_

“Did I do something wrong?”

Hell, Jungeun didn’t even do anything wrong, and Jinsol knows that. She knows it all too well, that it’s her own fault to mull over things too much, that she takes things too personally and refuses to think more logically when she’s already a damn grown up.

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Jinsol mutters, rather bitterly, and guiltily.

“Then what’s wrong?” Jungeun presses further.

Yeah, okay, it’s about time Jinsol comes face to face with herself, and with Jungeun, because the girl deserves an explanation.

“I saw you with someone else that day, in your office,” Jinsol says slowly. She’s not even a few words in and she’s already feeling like running away, wants the ground to swallow her up whole. “So I thought, maybe she’s your girlfriend, or something.”

Saying those words have Jinsol burning in embarrassment, her toes curling up. She can’t even look at Jungeun in the eyes.

There’s a moment of silence, so loud yet so deafening. Then Jungeun breaks it.

“Jinsol,” She says carefully. “You have it all wrong.”

Then she laughs, laughs so hard that she has to hold on to the desk like it’s the only pillar of her life. She doubles over, slightly panting from all the breath she couldn’t catch. Jinsol would’ve joined her, were it not for the fact that she does not know what the hell Jungeun is laughing about.

“That was Yerim, my junior in college. She likes to get all touchy with me, but that’s it, really.”

A heavy weight in her chest immediately gets lifted off, seeping out of her like a cold gush of air she breathes out. But another one settles in.

If she felt dumb before, now she feels even dumber.

“I didn’t know you were the jealous type, Jinsol,” Jungeun quirks her eyebrow, with an amused smile stretched across her lips.

This is good, smiling Jungeun is good, the long face that was apparent before now gone.

Jinsol rolls her eyes. “I _wasn’t_ jealous.”

“Sure,” Jungeun nods, sarcasm dripping heavily in her tone.

There’s a pause where all Jinsol and Jungeun do is stare at each other, with Jinsol’s hand stretched out in between them, an unspoken apology, an invitation that Jungeun probably won’t take, because Jinsol’s a petty little shit, and Jungeun has all the right to be mad at her, but then—

But then Jungeun does the complete opposite, and instead of grabbing Jinsol’s hand, she crosses the few feet between them easily and folds herself to Jinsol’s side, arm winding around Jinsol, fingers folding gently around her waist.

Jinsol wants to ask what this means, the two of them like this, so close, but Jungeun is giggling, quiet and gentle, almost like she doesn’t quite believe it herself. And for once, Jinsol doesn’t overthink things. For once, Jinsol doesn’t doubt.

“This okay?” Jungeun whispers, nose brushing against the edge of Jinsol’s jawline. 

It’s more than okay, Jinsol thinks, because if there’s one thing life has taught her (among all the hardships and suffering), it’s to not be afraid to take giant leaps of faith—she pulls Jungeun in for a kiss, lips pressing feather-light against hers.

Jungeun kisses her back, surprised but not at all averse to it, and it’s not a very good kiss, because they don’t get much kissing done. Jungeun’s smiling too much, not that Jinsol’s complaining, because she can’t help but to kiss her through it, teeth, too-big grins, and all.

It might not be a very good kiss compared to all the kisses out there, but for a first kiss, it feels almost like a touch of heaven. It feels like what the horizon and ocean must feel like when they finally meet—sweet, sweet, relief.

When Jungeun pulls away, they’re slightly out of breath, cheeks flushed and eyes twinkling with delight.

“Why didn’t I kiss you sooner?” Jungeun asks, thumb tracing the edge of Jinsol’s jaw. She sounds less tired, more relaxed, like she finally got the answer she’s been holding her breath for. And Jinsol—

Jinsol just rolls her eyes, pushing playfully at Jungeun’s shoulder. “You’re an idiot.”

(But she drags Jungeun in for a second kiss, and a third, and a fourth, and after the fifth, Jinsol lost count.)

-

Later that night, Jinsol plays the song for Jungeun.

“You know,” Jinsol starts, smile already creeping up her face. “I wrote this song after you.”

Jungeun snorts out a laugh. “Yeah, you’re a sap, I know.”

Jungeun calls her a sap, but from the way her eyes are beaming, her hand coming naturally to intertwine with Jinsol’s, Jinsol knows, she absolutely loves it.

-

The album is almost well and ready, with the help from a few more of the company’s talents. She didn’t singlehandedly arrange all the songs herself, just the title track and the side track—the backbone of it, the skeletal structure. But the credit doesn’t all go to her.

Vivi can’t be any happier as she talks about their upcoming plans. Music video, photoshoot, debut showcase, choreography. 

“Thanks, Jinsol,” Vivi tells her, her smile genuine. “I know it was hard for you, but thank you, the album’s amazing.”

“Thanks,” Jinsol returns the manner with a grin of her own. “I could have bombed and fucked it all up, but I didn’t,” A scoff and a one-shoulder shrug.

Vivi rolls her eyes, heading for the door. “Give yourself some credit.”

Give herself some credit she does. She calls Sooyoung afterwards and almost flings her phone out when Sooyoung cheers excitedly and way too loudly on the other end of the line. “You made it, Jinsol!”

It’s big, Jinsol’s greatest work yet—to be entrusted this responsibility, honestly, she’d be lying if she said it didn’t bother her. Now, though, with the success of it, with her name steadily growing more recognition, Jinsol feels relief.

After work, she grabs dinner at a quiet little pub a few blocks down the company because, Jinsol quotes Sooyoung, “this calls for a celebration!” Sooyoung’s the first one to arrive, arms crossed as she waits for the rest of her party outside.

Hyunjin comes in next, hair a mess and shirt wrinkled. She looks like she had just been seconds away from getting run over by a bus. A suspicion that’s easily cleared when Heejin huffs beside her, saying exactly that, “We almost got run over by a bus because Kim Hyunjin doesn’t believe in pedestrian lanes.”

Hyejoo claps her friends on their shoulders, wheezing pathetically when she adds, “In our defence, nobody cares about pedestrian lanes.”

Jiwoo arrives with a bounce in her step and a pretty smile on her face. She leans in, gives Sooyoung a kiss to the edge of her mouth, and motions for the rest of them to go in.

Jinsol and Jungeun arrive last all because Jungeun had insisted on cuddling a little while longer on her office couch, but it’s okay, their friends can wait. 

They’re both greeted with loud jeering, their friends waving excitedly at them and yelling out their names so loudly and obviously, Jinsol’s got half a mind to just steer to the left and avoid them completely, because with Jiwoo knowing about them from Jungeun, it didn’t take long for Sooyoung to find out, and for the rest of the squad to find out.

Jungeun pulls her along, shaking her head.

“How old are y’all? Shut up,” Jinsol hisses at them. She takes a seat at their table, with Jungeun sitting beside her.

“We had a banner and all,” Hyunjin says, pulling out a small piece of copy paper from a pocket. “It was ten times bigger than this, but then we almost got run over by a bus,” She unfolds the paper and shows it to Jinsol. It’s a doodle of her face and a lot of ‘congratulations’ written at least two millions times around it. “It was so much better than this, I swear.”

Jinsol takes the poorly drawn congratulatory sheet of paper, tucks it into a back pocket, and leans across the table to ruffle Hyunjin’s hair. “Thanks.”

Sooyoung raises the first toast for Jinsol, and instead of saying _congratulations_ for the six hundredth time that day, she just says, “I hope nobody dies tonight.”

Everyone echoes the sentiment, before taking very small, casual sips on their drinks.

It was a normal dinner, perhaps the best one Jinsol has had in a very long time, because everyone is here, Jungeun, Sooyoung, Hyunjin, and all the important people in her life, sharing her success. Nothing gets better than this.

Maybe the city does have something good to offer after all, not just wealth and opportunities. Looking back on things now, Jinsol finds that it’s true what people say about storms. 

They don’t last forever. 

-

It’s not much of a view, just the flashing lights of cars zooming past them and the sound of drunk people trudging down the street, laughter as light as their heads.

Jinsol and Jungeun are outside of the pub, taking a stroll down the street. 

Jungeun looks like she’s having fun, eyes alight with mirth and amusement. Jinsol likes that look on her, thinks that Jungeun’s got one of the best smiles she’s seen on anybody. It’s pretty, really, really beautiful. Jinsol doesn’t mind waking up to it the next morning. Or the morning after that. Or the next mornings for a very long time in her life. Or all the mornings in her life. 

This is perfect, Jinsol thinks. Her friends loud and intoxicated in the pub behind them, their words of well wishes, for both her and Jungeun. She grabs hold of Jungeun’s hand, and it’s perfect.

Natural, even, how Jungeun’s hand fits almost perfectly against hers, their fingers sliding together in the empty spaces between them. It’s like they’re meant to hold hands, for now, for a really long time. Maybe even forever.

“Be honest with me, were you like, super mad when I threw up on your jacket?” Jinsol asks. It’s a question that she has been meaning to ask.

Under the warm orange light of a street lamp, Jungeun glows. “Not really,” she says.

“Not really?” 

Jungeun steps closer towards her, their nose almost touching and lips barely a breath away from each other. “I mean, you were kind of cute, so I find myself not minding that much.”

“Oh my god,” Jinsol groans, rolling her eyes. “You’re so annoying.”

Jungeun laughs, warm and tender. 

A pause, the entire world moving except for the both of them. A moment passes, Jungeun catching her breath, and Jinsol’s heartbeat may finally be calmed down enough for her to hear her own thoughts now, but her bones still rattle, her knees going weak at the sight of Jungeun looking like she’s got a galaxy in her eyes, stars that have yet to be discovered dancing in the back of her eyelids, just waiting.

Jungeun kisses her, and Jinsol kisses her back because it’s impossible not to kiss Jungeun back, especially when she’s got a smile that can power a small city and lips that taste like promises and _more._

It’s silly, absolutely fucking ridiculous, the both of them smiling and giggling into their kiss, but Jinsol doesn’t mind, doesn’t care, because all that matters is they’re in love.

Two idiots in love.

**Author's Note:**

> this ended up being waaay longer than i anticipated, but i hope you enjoyed it as much as i did writing it!


End file.
